


Film 2

by AnonAutobot



Series: Noble Porn Ring [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Facial, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, facial mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 17:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18154610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonAutobot/pseuds/AnonAutobot
Summary: Written for this kink meme prompt: http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=13914624#t13914624REQ: G1 AU/prewar – any/any – noncon, angst, humiliation, unwilling porn star, messed up societyIn the decadent higher echelons of Cybertronian society it is a generally accepted opinion/’fact’ that rape is only a crime if it’s committed by a lower-ranking bot against one of higher rank. Otherwise it’s considered just as legitimate as any other kink. What those of lower rank think of this is pretty obvious, but there’s little they can do about it since the laws exist to protect those with power and credits.One group of mechs has turned this into a business: they find/abduct/buy themselves a mech or femme of insignificant social status (doesn’t have to be a guttersmech or even somebody poor, just anyone that catches their optic and isn’t a noble, really), rape them in this or that way while filming the whole thing and then completely openly sell the films as quality porn. Hell, maybe they even air them on the Cybertronian equivalent of TV? Take requests/orders in a special talk show? Point is, this is all considered perfectly normal and acceptable in these upper castes.





	1. The Film

I have to say, this sort of vid never appeals to me. I don’t mind watching, but participating is an entirely different matter. Fortunately I have a good friend who thoroughly enjoys inflicting the sort of damage this request needs. The mech has already been delivered and is waiting downstairs in the studio.  
“Shall we?”  
“Oh yes.” My friend rubs his hands together eagerly. “Been wanting to play again for a while. Just a shame the requests don’t come that frequently.”  
“Take it as a compliment on your previous works.” I offer.

As we enter the studio, the mech looks up. He’s been chained to the floor on his knees, arms fastened next to his legs. He glares at us, and I can’t help but smile. Such a handsome mech. Shame really. It’s always the handsome ones that seem to end up ‘performing’ for these vids.  
“So handsome.” I croon, stepping forward to cup his cheek in my hand. He really is. He could almost be noble-built with his construction. Nicely angled cheeks, chiselled chin, bright blue optics. The mech is almost perfect. It’s almost a shame that he is the one to be used for this vid. I could have so much fun with him. But then, these vids always work better if the mech is originally very handsome.

I lean down to press a kiss to his lips, pulling back as he snaps at me.  
“Ah ah ah.” I tut, shaking my head. “You should be on your best behavior, else my friend here will have to get nasty.” He glances over to my friend, and for the first time, I see a flash of fear in his optics. It’s decidedly arousing. His hands clench into fists and he growls at me. Actually growls. Remarkable.  
“I don’t have to be on my best behavior.” He snarled. “You’re the ones that snatched me off the street. Any other mech would be in trouble for that!”  
“Ah, but we’re not ‘any other mechs’ are we?” I glance at my friend and smile, hand stroking the mech’s helm. He shakes it off and glares at me.  
“Just get on with whatever the frag you’re going to do and let me go!” I almost clap my hands at that. He actually sounds like he’s eager, and the mechs watching these vids will just eat that up.  
“You may find you regret your words.” I murmur, patting his shoulder and stepping back.

My friend steps forward to take my place.

 

_POV Shift_

I love the look on his face as I step forward. There’s such a look of determination. But it’s mingled with fear. And like my friend, I like seeing the fear on these mechs’ faces. I’m good at what I do. Haven’t had any complaints so far. But then, it’s not like my particular talents are needed that often. Every now and then requests will be made by those with darker desires. And I am there to fulfil them.  
“You going to be a good mech then?” I ask, letting my panel retract, spike pressurising. His optics flash. He knows what’s coming.  
“You want me to suck your spike?” He asks, with no small amount of scorn. I produce a high-powered laser scalpel from my subspace and lazily flick it on.  
“It’d be better for you if you did. Me, I don’t mind either way. I’ll get my fun however you decide to behave.” He eyes the scalpel warily, looking between it and me.  
“So you’re going to cut my plating if I don’t?” He asked, evidently weighing up his options.  
“Something like that...” I nod. He huffs. I’m quite happy to let him think about it. I circle him, one hand drifting down to stroke my spike.  
“My friend is right, you really are quite handsome.” I reach out and stroke his shoulder. He freezes, then relaxes minutely as he realises it’s just my finger, and not the laser scalpel.  
“Mmm... he is. The number of things I could do to him...” My friend purrs and I look over at him, amused.  
“Open your panel.” I tap my fingers on the mech’s shoulder. “Let’s give my friend a good show, shall we?”  
“How about no?” Oh, this mech has courage. That’ll make everything all the more beautiful when he finally gives in. A simple twist of my wrist and the laser scalpel bites into his plating.

He cries out at the sudden flash of pain. I didn’t cut deep enough to do any damage. Yet. Just enough to remind him of his situation. He twists in his bonds to glare at me.  
“You fragging sadist.” I purr. My friend laughs and beckons me over. As I cross to him, the mech growls at me as though he were some sort of cybercat.  
“Perhaps this might persuade him?” My friend suggests, unsubspacing a false-spike. My optics light up. Oh, that’s just perfect.  
“Perfect.” I grin, taking it off him. “What do you think of this?” I ask the mech, as though he has a choice.  
“Not much, if you ask me.” The mech tries to scoff, but I can see the uncertainty in his optics.  
“Hmmm...” I kneel down, close enough that I can reach for his panel. He tries to pull away, but the chains keep him in position. And there’s not exactly much he can do with his mouth. At least, not to hurt me. I can think of plenty of things he can do with his mouth, but I’ve learnt the hard way that some mechs just don’t like that. He pulls against the chains, and I can feel how hard he’s straining from my position. He flinches as I touch his panel, deftly finding the catch and forcing the panel to retract. Before he can override the command, I shove the false-spike in his valve. His vocaliser spits static as his unready valve is forced to accommodate the large false-spike. Deploying the magnetic clamps attached to the base, I secure the false-spike to his array, meaning that he cannot close his panel. Despite everything, he still snaps at me as I stand up.

/!\

I tut at him as I step back. He stares up at me, determination in his optics. There’s also a slight hint of pain in those bright blue optics, which makes my spike pulse. Sweeping my hand over it, I look down at him.  
“Still so determined to fight?” I ask, giving him one last chance. It looks better for the cameras.  
“Frag, yes.” He glares at me. I just smile, and activate the false-spike. He arches up, yanking against the chains as the false-spike surges to life, vibrating inside him.  
“You’re sick.” He shudders, unwanted pleasure coursing through his system as the false-spike does its job, encouraging his systems to produce lubricant.  
“Mmm... some have said that, yes.” I circle him, twirling the laser scalpel in my hand. He watches me, twisting against the chains, shudders wracking his frame. He’s fighting the pleasure. Wonderful. It’s beautiful to watch; the way the horror and pleasure mix across his face as his systems react, forcing him towards overload. I move to stand in front of him again, watching him closely. As he starts overloading, I slash the laser scalpel across his face, deep enough to cut through the plating and into the sensors and energon conduits beneath. The moan he makes turns into a scream as pain and shock override the pleasure of the overload. His engines whine as he struggles to process what just happened. I let my hand drift down to stroke my spike.

“You really are sick.” He pants as his systems calm a little. I drag the scalpel down his other cheek, barely grazing the plating.  
“Yes, I know. Wonderful, isn’t it?” I purr, tracing the cut down the side of his face. He winces and hisses, pulling away from me. The false-spike is still vibrating, pushing his systems towards another overload. I wander around him again, letting my hands trail over his frame, sometimes digging in a little with the laser scalpel, but not too much, because each time I do, it pulls him back from the abyss of overload. It doesn’t take much longer before he tumbles over the edge again. As he shudders in the chains, I drag the laser scalpel down the other side of his face. His strangled moan turns into a hiss as the laser bites into his facial plating.  
“Delightful.” I purr, leaning in to lick the fresh energon from his face. He manages a weak growl and pulls away.  
“Fragging rusted glitched in the processor...” The mech swore, tugging against the chains. I laugh, patting him on the helm.  
“I’ve been called many things.” I say, circling him again. “Mostly by mechs in your position.” I pause, head tilted to one side. “Occasionally by mechs who have requested a session with me.” I step back to look at him. He’s shuddering again, the false-spike ramping his arousal back up. Lubricant is now staining the floor beneath him, and his spike is leaking transfluid.  
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I smile, crouching down and swiping my fingers through the lubricant on the floor. This close, I can smell it, and my spike reacts. I take myself in hand and stroke myself slowly, watching as he reacts to the false-spike. As he overloads, I slash out again, catching him across the cheek and nose. My aim is a little off as I’m so close to my own overload. The screech of pain as the injury registers through the haze of overload is all I need to tip me over the edge into mine. It doesn’t need to be fancy, not yet, and I aim so my transfluid splatters across his chest plating.

 

Twenty overloads later, and the mech is panting, struggling to stay upright. His face is a myriad of cuts, some deeper than others, in an intricate pattern, each made as he overloaded. A beautiful reminder of the fun I’ve had with him. Not that I’m finished yet. I can tell he’s near stasis, both from energon loss and the sheer number of overloads he’s had. Despite everything, he still keeps glaring at me and cursing me as best he can. His vocaliser is failing now, spitting static in between the faint curses. Screaming oneself hoarse through pain and pleasure has a tendency to do that. But I know my fun is coming to an end soon. He won’t stay online much longer, that much I know. And such a pity, I was having so much fun. But there’s still time for one more overload, something spectacular for the vid.  
“You’re going to enjoy this one, mech.” I grin, kneeling in front of him and tipping his chin up so he can look at me. His optics flare as he looks at me.  
“If you think that, then you really are misclocked.” Even still, he’s defiant, and that just makes me more aroused. Nothing like a reluctant mech, hissing and spitting curses at you. Really gets my engine revving. And others too, judging by how well these vids sell.  
“Maybe I am.” I shrug easily, licking up a drop of energon that had collected at the edge of his mouth. He snarls at me, but has little energy to pull away. That and my grip on his chin is still harsh.  
“It’s a pity you’re not more amenable.” I murmur, standing up. I wrap my hand around my spike. “I’d love to feel your mouth around my spike. Hear your muffled screams as you overload.”  
“If your spike got anywhere near my mouth, I’d bite.”  
“Mmmm, I’m a sadist, not a masochist... though I do know a mech who’d be happy to have someone like you.”  
“Frag off.” The mech slumps in his chains, weary of both the physical and mental battle. The overloads and the pain, and the constant fighting really must have tired him. I could almost feel sorry for him. Almost. I pump my spike leisurely, watching as the false-spike pushes him towards overload again. I know the signs now, know the way his frame tenses as he resists the unwanted pleasure. The way his frame relaxes as he gives in, no longer able to fight the rising tide of arousal. And then the way he tenses again as his overload approaches, the way he arches in pleasure as his overload sweeps over him. The way he recoils in pain as my laser scalpel bites into his facial plating. It’s all so wonderful. I overload with a groan, spraying the mech’s face with my transfluid. He hisses as the hot liquid scalds the cuts and gouges on his face.  
“Perfect.” I pat the mech’s head, leaving more transfluid on his helm. He makes a weak attempt at growling at me.

“Wonderful.” My friend claps, only the way he’s sitting betraying his own arousal. “What now? Shall I have him disposed of?” I look back to the mech, swaying on his knees.  
“Leave him here for a while.” I grin, turning back to my friend. “I think you’ve got a problem I can help with.” I advance towards him.  
“Only if you agree to leave the laser scalpel out of it.” He purrs, optics flicking back to the mech’s face.  
“You’ll only have my hands and spike.” I promise. “Leave him here... I’m in no rush.” I lean in close to my friend, arms around his waist, hands resting on his aft. “And the longer he goes without medical attention, the more he’ll scar.” I smile. My friend looks as though he might say something, but I distract him with a kiss. Then I usher him out of the room, leaving the cameras and the mech I’ve mutilated alone.


	2. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because one commenter said: I think it would be a hell of a lot of fun if Wheeljack got loose while they were fragging in the next room. I'll bet there are a lot of things in that flat that could be made to blow up and look like an accident.

_POV Shift – Wheeljack_

I can only watch as They leave the room. Fragging glitches, leaving me chained up here. And he left that Primus-forsaken false-spike on! Now that I’m alone, I can finally do something. It was too dangerous to do something when there were two of them here, but now... It’s easy to transform a finger into a small welding torch and cut through the chains holding me to the floor. Not before the infernal false-spike has brought me to another overload though. I bite my lip as the overload hits, not able to stop myself from flinching. It’s a strange relief that the overload doesn’t bring a burst of pain with it. I shake my head, finally releasing myself from the chains. It’s a quick matter to remove the false-spike. It vibrates in my hand, and I throw it across the room in disgust.

I crawl across the room, not quite sure I can stand yet. My energy levels are so low, I need energon before I can do anything else. Anything to remind Them that taking me was a bad idea. A quick low-level scan reveals a stash of high grade in a cupboard and I make for that, downing two cubes in quick succession and watching as my energy levels rise. Of course, as they do, the wounds on my face start to leak more. Unsubspacing a cloth, I dab gingerly at the cuts, hissing at the pain that flares when I do so. I know I’m going to need to see somemech about that. Thankfully, I have a good friend who’s a medic. I believe him when he says they’ll scar. I know other mechs who’ve been through this. I’ve seen the scars they’ve got. Never thought I’d get them myself... Fragging nobles. They’ll get their comeuppance one day.

Eyeing the cubes of high grade, an idea flashes through my processor. Another quick check of my subspace reveals that yes, I do have the necessary items on hand. Perfect. Time to leave them a little surprise. I grab another couple of cubes - they won’t miss them after all, and sprinkle the items I’ve pulled from my subspace around the remaining cubes. Nothing much, but with the addition of some heat, courtesy of the heater in this cold ‘studio’, and of course, the extra friction provided by that slagging false-spike... should be one pit of an explosion. Probably not enough to deactivate the mechs in the other room, more’s the pity. But I’d rather not chance my luck with the Enforcers. I’d end up being in the slammer, not them. With everything ready, I make my way to the other door - I really don’t want to walk in on those fraggers ‘facing. It leads to the street outside, and I vent a sigh of relief. Now to find my way home. And quickly.

As I head away, there’s a muffled explosion and flames leap from the building. I risk turning around once, just to see the flames dancing, mechs running towards to see what had happened. Fighting back a shudder, I tell myself they don’t know what happened there. Except, they probably do. Enough, it’s over. Time to move on. And the first step to moving on is getting myself repaired.  
“Ratch?” I open a commline to my oldest friend, hoping he won’t complain about me calling this late. Well, he won’t complain, but that pair of terrors he calls lovers may well do.  
“’Jack?” Ratchet’s voice is sleepy, and I know that I’ve roused him from recharge. Frag, hate doing that. Mech never gets enough recharge as it is.  
“Sorry ta bother ya so late. Was wondering if ya might be able ta help me out?”  
“You haven’t gone and blown off another limb, have you?” I glance back at the studio, still on fire.  
“Nah, haven’t inflicted any injuries on myself this time. Some other mech did...” I leave it at that. I’m pretty sure Ratchet knows what I’m talking about. And I’m pretty slagging sure he got caught out once too. Those twins of his certainly got a lot more protective of him a while ago.  
“Oh...” Yeah, he knows what I’m talking about. “How bad is it?”  
“Bad enough I need your expertise?” I quip, before turning more serious. “Might scar, even with your help. Think they wanted that.”  
“Frag. You know where I am, I’ll be waiting for you.” And Sunstreaker and Sideswipe too. Just what I need. I scrub a hand over my face and wince, having forgotten my injuries for a moment. The sooner Ratchet can patch me up, the better.


End file.
